


Idyllic

by IBoatedHere



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Barbecue, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Neighbors, Post-Canon, SUPER established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: “Andy said it was going to be awhile,” Joe answers. “You know what that means, we have some major time to kill. I thought we could spend that time somewhere nice,” Joe continues, “and this is very nice.”Nicky wants to tell him that their nondescript apartment in Berlin is nice. That their sixteenth century farmhouse in Shropshire is nice, even without electricity and indoor plumbing.But Joe looks like he really wants this, like he needs it, just like Andy needs time and Nile needs experience and Booker needs consequences for his actions.“I guess the pool is a nice touch,” Nicky admits slowly and Joe grins and steps into his space, his hand slipping around Nicky’s waist.“The pool was a bonus,” Joe says, “I got the place for the hot tub.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 52
Kudos: 531





	Idyllic

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely inspired by the idea of [Joe’s Finger Licking Lip Smacking Prize Winning Halal Ribs of Glory](https://tovezza.tumblr.com/post/626325201557340160/every-time-joe-and-nicky-have-to-go-to-ground-in-a)

Sometimes, Joe can’t help himself.

He finds them a house in the suburbs—three bedrooms and two and a half baths. There is a well maintained lawn out front and a two car garage attached to the side and an inground pool out back.

It’s too much. Too big and too close to neighbors and too out in the open.

Nicky follows Joe through the house, hands in his pockets as Joe’s arms are spread wide, pointing out this and that, ending with the grill on the back porch.

“Joe,” is all Nicky says and Joe drops his arms to his sides.

“Andy said it was going to be awhile,” Joe answers. “You know what that means, we have some major time to kill. I thought we could spend that time somewhere nice,” Joe continues, “and this is very nice.”

Nicky wants to tell him that their nondescript apartment in Berlin is nice. That their sixteenth century farmhouse in Shropshire is nice, even without electricity and indoor plumbing.

But Joe looks like he really wants this, like he needs it, just like Andy needs time and Nile needs experience and Booker needs consequences for his actions.

“I guess the pool is a nice touch,” Nicky admits slowly and Joe grins and steps into his space, his hand slipping around Nicky’s waist.

“The pool was a bonus,” Joe says, “I got the place for the hot tub.”

___

Nicky takes responsibility for the pool while Joe tends to the lawn. They need to keep on top of it and keep it mowed or the HOA will send them a letter with more than just a warning attached.

“The fuck is this,” Joe had asked when the first letter arrived and Nicky skimmed the page over his shoulder and laughed before pressing a kiss to the side of Joe’s neck.

“Welcome to domestic life, my love,” he said then went back to making dinner.

They’ve only used the pool a handful of times since they moved in nearly a month ago but with the weather getting warmer Nicky imagines that number will increase.

The hot tub, however, has seen its fair share of action.

Nicky skims leaves off the surface of the water of the pool as he thinks back to last night, wine drunk and just a bit sloppy, giggling as Joe stumbled getting out of the tub in his haste to drag Nicky upstairs to properly finish what they had started. Nicky had laughed and Joe had recovered and kissed him quiet. They never made it upstairs and Nicky’s not sure they can ever spend an innocent evening in the hot tub again.

He hears the lawn mower suddenly cut out on the front lawn and Nicky sets the pool skimmer against the fence and treads through the house. They paid next to nothing for the push mower at a tag sale a few streets over and Nicky thinks that was still too much. Joe hasn’t been able to finish the lawn without stopping to hit something beneath the mower with a hammer or a wrench. Once, the blades began to move with Joe’s hand in the way. They’re both thankful that it happened in the backyard where the neighbors couldn’t see the carnage or how quickly his fingers grew back.

Nicky steps out onto the front porch, hammer in hand, only to find Joe down by the sidewalk, talking to the woman that lives across the street.

Her name is Emily Williams and she brought Joe and Nicky homemade blueberry muffins when they first moved in. She’s nice, polite and pleasant and her husband Seth seems a bit aloof but overall they seem like good people.

Nicky leans on the porch railing and watches Emily talk with her hands, clearly flustered because Joe has taken his shirt off and stuck it in his back pocket and his skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat that shines in the sunlight.

Nicky looks his fill before realizing that he and Emily aren’t the only ones affected. More neighbors have come out of their houses and have decided that right now is a perfect time to water their plants or wash their car or check the mail and then, for some reason, check it again.

Joe throws his head back and laughs at something Emily has said Emily looks like she’s about to melt into their fresh trimmed grass.

They say their goodbyes, Emily very nearly tripping over nothing on the sidewalk and Joe reaching out to steady her with his hand on her elbow. She thanks him, profusely, before heading back across the street while Joe makes a beeline straight for the front porch.

“Charming the neighbors,” Nicky asks and Joe smiles and kisses him--a show for their onlookers, no doubt--until Nicky’s back begins to ache from being pressed against the railing.

“We were invited to a party at Seth and Emily’s,” Joe says when he finally pulls away. “It would be rude to decline. People remember rude people.”

Nicky can’t argue with that, especially when Joe leans in and kisses him again.

___

On Saturday night they walk across the street, Joe holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other while Nicky carries a bowl of pasta salad.

“Is it too much,” Joe had asked, freaking out about bringing flowers and alcohol and food, ten minutes before the party officially started.

Nicky had shook his head. “I don’t know the rules,” he stated as he continued tearing basil into the bowl.

Emily seems thrilled with the flowers and the wine but the real hit of the night is Nicky’s salad that goes lightning quick--people taking seconds and thirds--before crowding around and asking him for the recipe.

“The secret is that he makes his own pasta,” Joe says, arm wrapping around Nicky’s shoulder. He has a bottle of beer in one hand, fingers wrapped loosely around the neck and he leans into Nicky’s side, like he’s just a bit tipsy.

“Oh, I could never do that,” Carolyn Johnson says. She lives four doors down with her husband and three kids. Triplets.

“It’s really not that hard,” Nicky says.

“But don’t you need a special machine,” someone else asks and Nicky shakes his head and spends the rest of the night talking about the process and what kind of pasta is best for what type of sauce while Joe stands next to him, warm and happy.

___

They tell people that Joe is an artist, which technically isn’t even a lie, and that Nicky is a copy editor, which is, but it gives them a good excuse as to why they both work from home.

Joe turns the spare upstairs bedroom into a makeshift studio where he spends the time when he’s not mowing the lawn drawing and sketching and painting.

Nicky favors an armchair by the window where he reads and soaks up the early morning sun.

There is a knock at the door and Nicky unfolds his legs and sets the book down on the arm of the chair. He stands and Joe groans.

“You moved.”

Nicky steps around to Joe’s side of the easel and sees himself in charcoal.

“Me again?”

“You always,” Joe says as he cradles Nicky’s jaw in his hand and kisses him.

The knocking at the door continues and Nicky pinches Joe’s hip so he can step away.

“Ignore them,” Joe says, trying to pull Nicky back.

Nicky bats his hand away. “It would be rude to do that,” he says, “they know we’re home.”

Nicky finds Amy Stewart standing on their porch. She invites him and Joe over for a barbecue on Saturday and stresses that they don’t have to bring anything, just themselves, but if Nicky would like, he could make his pasta salad again.

Nicky tells her that it’s no problem, that they would be happy to come, mostly because he knows that’s what Joe would say and before she leaves she stops at the stop of the stairs and looks back.

“You have some…” She trails off and points to her jaw and Nicky’s hand flies to his face. When he pulls it away his palm is streaked with charcoal.

“Joe was sketching,” he explains, cheeks coloring while Amy laughs.

“Oh, I’m sure he was.”

Nicky has scrubbed most of the charcoal off his face by the time he makes it back upstairs.

Joe has finished his sketch and Nicky wraps his arms around him from behind and rests his chin on Joe’s shoulder.

“You didn’t even need me.”

Joe huffs a laugh. “I could draw every inch of you from memory alone,” he says. “Who was at the door?”

“Amy from--.”

“The end of the street,” Joe finishes.

“Yes. She invited us to a party on Saturday. I said yes.”

“Good. It should be fun.” He turns and looks at Nicky with one brow raised. “Right?”

Nicky nods. “Of course.”

___

The parties are fun, that’s the worst part.

Their neighbors are warm and accepting and they both fit right in. Joe talks baseball and soccer and then has a long conversation with Jennifer, Rick and Susan’s teenage daughter who is thinking about going to art school and Nicky swaps tips and tricks about how to bake the perfect loaf of sourdough and how to stop your basil plant from growing out of control.

It’s a nice life and Nicky knows it’ll hurt the both of them deeply when they have to leave it.

___

In mid-July, Nicky stands in Mike and Amelia’s kitchen, helping them clean up after the rest of the neighborhood has gone home.

He’s rinsing dishes at the sink then loading them into the dishwasher while Mike and Amelia pack up the leftovers into Tupperware. Joe is outside, scrubbing down the grates on the grill and throwing a soggy tennis ball to Charlie, the families two year old golden retriever.

“How long have you and Joe been married,” Mike asks as he pops the lid on a container and hands it to Amelia to put in the fridge. “I don’t think I remember you saying.”

“Fifteen years,” Nicky answers.

“Wow,” Amelia says, “you guys married young.”

Nicky nods. Fifteen is a good number, a good lie. Ten didn’t seem like nearly enough and twenty was too much and the truth is their secret to keep.

“We didn’t feel like waiting,” Nicky answers. “We eloped.”

It’s the story they use in every city and town they take refuge in except for the one time in Cannes when they said that they were newlyweds to get upgraded to the honeymoon suite. Nicky still can’t believe that it worked, or how good the champagne had tasted.

“You’re lucky,” Mike says, “to be married that young and to still be married that long...god. Fifteen years. We’ve only been married for three. Fifteen sounds like a lifetime.”

Nicky laughs and looks back out the window at Joe who is crouched down and rubbing Charlie’s belly. “You have no idea.”

___

Eventually, it’s Joe and Nicky’s turn to host.

It feels like one thing to go over to other people's homes and something entirely different to invite people in theirs.

It feels like asking for trouble.

“We have no photos from when we’re younger,” Nicky says, trailing after Joe at the supermarket as he picks up paper plates and plastic forks. “They know we’ve been together for a long time.”

“You told them we eloped, right? No wedding photos. It was a spur of the moment thing.” He stops at the meat case and loads three racks of ribs into the cart.

“It’s more than that.”

“You’re overthinking it, love.”

“Andy would call us idiots.”

Joe hums. “Probably. But I didn’t invite her so…” He shrugs and puts another rack into the cart.

___

In the week leading up to the party, Nicky cleans the house from top to bottom and scrubs the guest bathroom off the kitchen until it shines.

He tries new recipes, not content with the repeats he’s been making. Me bakes cookies and brownies and finally, an olive oil cake when he decides that everything he’s made before is too sweet.

“What _are_ you doing,” Joe asks, clearly delighted by the excess of baked goods that have sprung up in their kitchen. “I thought you didn’t even want to host.”

“But we are,” Nicky stresses, “and it has to be perfect.”

Nicky cleans the pool and Joe mows the lawn and together they string lights in the back yard that will create a soft, golden glow when it gets dark.

It looks beautiful when they flick the lights on for the first time and Nicky leans into Joe’s side. Joe kisses Nicky’s temple and wraps his arms around his waist then picks him up and tosses Nicky into the pool.

Nicky resurfaces just in time to see Joe pull his shirt over his head and jump in after.

___

Nicky finds out quickly that hosting might as well be a full time job. There’s a lot of running around, making sure the coolers are filled with ice and bottles of beer and cans of soda. He has to make sure the garbage cans they set out don’t get too full and the napkin supply doesn’t run too low.

Joe doesn’t get much time away from the grill, his ribs, and, to a greater extent, the sauce he’s made to go one them, are in high demand.

They run out of both only two hours in.

“Should I run back to the store,” Joe asks. They’re in the kitchen and Nicky is grabbing more bottles of water from the fridge. “I can get more sauce going on the stove.”

Nicky panics because running out of food was not something he planned for but then he remembers that he’s handled worse. He’s killed mercenaries and human traffickers. A handful of disappointed suburbanites is nothing.

“No,” he says. “There is a mountain of food left.” The Nelson’s had brought hamburgers and the Ruth’s had brought hot dogs and there is a plethora of salads and sides to choose from. “It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Joe agrees, “all right.” He leans back against the counter and grins. “You know they’re saying I should bottle that sauce and sell it. Am I good, babe, or am I good?”

“You’re very good,” Nicky agrees and Joe takes the bottles of water from his hands.

“Relax, Nicolo. You work too hard.”

“I’m being a good host.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself.”

“I think that’s part of being a host.”

Joe shakes his head and takes Nicky by the shoulders.

“Come,” he says, “come have fun at your party.”

Back outside, Nicky actually sits down and eats and has a glass of wine.

It’s still warm out and some of the neighborhood kids have brought water guns so Joe takes a group and Nicky takes a group and the game is on.

They run around the house and then pour out onto the quiet street, Joe and Nicky carefully holding the Super Soakers like toys instead of rifles.

It ends in a standoff, Nicky and his kids have the other group pinned down on the porch, stuck in a corner so they can’t even make it to the front door to cut through the house.

“You have nowhere else to go,” Nicky calls, “come out and we’ll go easy on you.” He immediately shakes his head to the kids and they all laugh.

It’s quiet for a few seconds and then all hell breaks loose as Joe and his band of followers start screaming and rush down the porch steps, Joe choosing to jump clear over the railing. It’s a move meant to surprise and disaorient led by a man who usually has nothing to lose and it works; Nicky’s kids jump back, guns lowered in shock and they’re thoroughly soaked within seconds.

Nicky gets them to rally instead of retreat and they fight back when the other’s guns run out of water. He gets them to concentrate on Joe, especially, who slips on the wet grass and is an easy target.

Shirt plastered to his skin and curls dripping wet and falling into his eyes, Joe laughs like Nicky hasn’t heard him in years and something something warm lodges itself just behind Nicky’s heart.

____

It’s late when the party finally breaks up. Later still when Nicky follows Joe up the stairs to shower and get ready for bed.

Nicky starts the shower and they wait for it to warm while they both get undressed.

They kiss beneath the spray with heat but no real intention to take it further. They’re both far too tired for that.

Joe steps out first and by the time Nicky shuts off the water Joe’s standing at the sink in pajama pants, brushing his teeth.

The mirror is fogged so Joe wipes it with his hand and his cloudy reflection winks at Nicky.

Nicky grabs his towel off the hook and wraps it around his waist then leans against the vanity beside Joe.

“Is this what you want,” he asks softly and Joe looks at him, confused, as toothpaste foam bubbles out the corners of his mouth.

“What do you mean,” he asks, voice garbled around the brush.

“This.” Nicky gestures to the bathroom, the house, this whole life. “The house and the lawn and the pool. Neighbors who throw parties. Friends. Kids.”

Joe spits the toothpaste into the sink and rinses the brush. “We can’t have kids, Nicky.”

“Not now, maybe.”

Joe crosses his arms over his chest and gives him a long look. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m just saying, we won’t live forever. Eventually, we’ll stop healing. What then? If we’re like Andy and we’re still alive after we figure it out—.”

“We will be,” Joe interrupts.

“And it happens at the same time—.”

“It will. But that doesn’t matter, if it was you first, I would stop. I would stop and keep you safe.”

Nicky smiles and lays his hand across Joe’s arm. “And I you. Would you like to come back here? Live this life? You could sell your barbecue sauce.”

Joe laughs. “It could be worse,” he says and Nicky nods. “But that's hundreds of years from now. Thousands, hopefully. Who knows what the world will look like.”

“As long as you and I have the same view of it, what does it matter?”

Joe makes a low, pleased sound that seems to rumble straight out of his chest and he leans forward to press and long kiss to Nicky’s forehead followed by both cheeks and then finally, his lips.

“Would you come back with me,” Joe asks, lips hovering over Nicky’s.

“With you,” Nicky says, “I’ll go anywhere.”


End file.
